


give me something to remember

by stupidwolves



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Massage, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6991537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidwolves/pseuds/stupidwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have a morning routine, Isabela and Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me something to remember

**Author's Note:**

> 1st fic for this fandom woooo

They have a morning routine, Isabela and Hawke.

 

Hawke is the first one to wake up; she lies around in bed for a couple minutes, taking in the warmth coming from Isabela, enjoying the feel of her breasts touching Hawke’s back and her arms enveloping her chest. She sighs in pleasure of such calm moment and does her best to disentangle without waking up her girlfriend.

 

Next she grabs a book and goes back to bed, one hand handling it while the other caresses Isabela’s locks. She goes through the pages rapidly, waiting to feel Isabela stir. It usually takes about an hour after Hawke gets up for Isabela to wake up, all cat-like in her morning stretch.

 

Hawke then closes her book and smiles while Isabela touches their lips together, morning breath forgotten between them. Both get out of bed and head to the bathroom, shower taken together. Fresh clothes are at an easy access and they take no time putting them on, ready to face the day.

 

What happens this morning, though, is that Isabela wakes up by herself, Hawke’s side not even warm to let her know her girlfriend hasn’t been gone for long. A small pint of panic lodges itself in, making itself comfortable. She gets up and gets dressed, shower postponed until she’s sure Hawke’s okay, and heads downstairs to look for her.

 

Bodahn is the only one she sees, the dwarf whistling a somewhat gloomy tune while he does his chores. She frowns and walks to the other rooms, not finding Hawke anywhere.

 

“Hey, Bodahn,” she calls. “Have you seen Hawke?”

 

“Oh, Messere Hawke has already left for the day,” he answers and offers her a polite smile.

 

“Do you know where she went off to?”

 

“Messere Hawke said she was going out to visit her mother,” Bodahn answers, his hands clasped together.

 

The panic leaves Isabela all at once, the understanding of the situation giving her a new context for Hawke’s disappearance. She knows exactly where to find her now, is sure nothing bad has happened to her – no involvements with the Carta, no debts to pay in the Hanged Man, no Templars she’s helping other mages run away from, no problems like those at all. Hawke’s just gone visit her mother’s grave, pay her respects.

 

Which means she shouldn’t be alone in a time like this.

 

* * *

 

It takes some time but Isabela finds her; kneeled in front of her mother’s grave, head cast downwards and hands interlaced together, mouthing something rapidly, almost like a prayer.

 

“I remember this one time your mother was nice to me,” she starts, smiles sweetly as Hawke’s head snaps back to look at her in surprise. “She gave me a new pair of earrings – ‘because you seem to have a good taste in jewelry’, she said. Lovely gesture from her.”

 

Hawke snorts, wiping away a tear. She slowly gets up, pats her knees to take the dust off and turns to Isabela, the semblance of a smile on her face. Isabela steps closer, carefully, still not sure if her presence is appreciated, and takes Hawke’s hand in hers, squeezing them together.

 

“Leandra’s always been nice like that,” Hawke jokes, tries to smile but chokes up on the tears she doesn’t want to let out.

 

“You can cry, you know,” Isabela whispers on her ear, tucks her hair to the back of her ear and pulls her into a warm embrace. “It’s just me here with you, and I promise I won’t tell Varric.”

 

“Oh, can you imagine if he put something like this in his book?” she looks mildly concerned, as if the thought of having such intimate moment in one of Varric’s stories worried her. “That would be horrible in many ways, and I would have to punch him for it.”

 

“Good thing he’s not here to record this, isn’t it?”

 

Hawke nods and falls silent, staring at her mother’s name with watery eyes. Isabela stands close to her, tightening their embrace a bit when Hawke’s hands seem to start trembling. One of her hands lifts up to brush Hawke’s hair, an attempt to calm her down.

 

They stay quiet like this for a while, the only sound being of the wind. Hawke seems to be calming herself, enough to not cry when talking, and Isabela is nothing but patient when it comes to Hawke.

 

“You know,” Hawke says, her quiet voice almost doesn’t reach Isabela’s ears. “Mother wasn’t always so bad. She did raise us the best she could after father died, protected me and Bethany from Templars all the time, moving from one place to another so they wouldn’t find us.”

 

Isabela knows this, like she also knows Hawke’s guilt from being the reason they never settled anywhere. She’s heard it when Hawke argued with Carver, just like she’s heard it from the mouth of Hawke herself whenever she drank a little too much. Isabela doesn’t agree with that particular feeling, and she shared her opinion once or twice, but Hawke never seems to sway from her own and Isabela won’t start a fight over that any day soon.

 

“Did you know she blamed me for Bethany’s death?” Hawke’s voice cracks, she snorts with disdain and Isabela frowns. “Like I could’ve stopped her from trying to take down that ogre by herself.”

 

Hawke feels guilty about that too, drowns in remorse every time she wakes up from a nightmare about her sister, doesn’t talk to anyone for hours after one of those. Isabela tried to take her guilt off that one too, with some mild success, but sometimes Hawke still backtracks the progress, rages about how she could’ve done something, anything.

 

Isabela hates that Leandra did something as hideous as to blame one of her children for her other child’s death.

 

It’s good that today is a day Hawke doesn’t think it was her fault, that today she’s angry that her mother said such thing.

 

“I know that’s a fucked up thing that she said to me,” she starts. “I know that, but I still can’t hate her for it. She’s my mother, you know? Cared for me and for the twins when no one else did. She wasn’t the best mother in the world but at least she tried, and I’m grateful for that.”

 

“Well, considering the mother I had,” Isabela says, tries to lighten the mood, “yours was a great one. Not selling you into marriage for a goat is a great start.”

 

“Last time you told me it was for a small piece of land,” Hawke snorts, wipes away her tears, seeing Isabela’s diversion for what it was.

 

“Ah, well,” she shrugs, softens and tightens the hold on her girlfriend. “Small details get confusing after some time, you know.”

 

“If you say so,” Hawke finds her hand and squeezes it, making sure to let Isabela know that besides the jokes about her mother, she still finds it despicable what the woman did.

 

Isabela knows what the small gesture means and she squeezes back, thankful for it. She’s been with Hawke enough to know what the smallest of movements from her means, and she loves it, loves that she knows Hawke so well and that she feels like she can trust the woman she chose as her lover to be more of herself than she ever is around everyone else.

 

“Not to be crass or offensive, but I think you shouldn’t stay here all day,” Isabela says, brushing her fingers through Hawke’s soft, soft hair.

 

There’s quietness for a moment, with Hawke looking at their feet, at the gravestone, at the flowers. Then she nods, slowly, hesitantly, raises her head and smiles, weak, at Isabela.

 

“Okay,” her voice sounds hoarse, like she’s about to cry again. “Okay, let’s go then.”

 

They untangle from their embrace and Hawke kneels, kisses her fingertips and touches them on her mom’s name on the gravestone. She gets up and takes Isabela’s hand on hers, pulls her to the graveyard’s exit.

 

* * *

 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Carver tried to steal a shield and sword from a Templar and got caught?” Hawke raises the beer to her lips, laughing before even telling the story because of Carver’s splutter.

 

Varric’s eyes sparkle, hands twitching for a pen and paper, more than ready to write the story down for his book. Merrill props her elbows on the table, leaning forward with interest, while Fenris already looks vaguely amused. Anders chuckles – Isabela knows the mage has already heard that one. Aveline stares down at Carver, as if reprimanding him now would do anything to change his past-self choices.

 

As Hawke spins her story, Isabela looks at her face, admiring every detail she can from her angle, smiling when she notices no more tears are about to fall, glad that Carver got a day off to mourn their mother so he could now be the main character in Hawke’s stories.

 

She looks better now, Hawke, a little worn down from all the crying earlier but other than that nothing seems out of place. Not even Varric, attentive little shit that he is, mentioned anything about it, so Isabela takes it as a win. She doesn’t want Hawke to be reminded of what this day means.

 

Carver doesn’t look all too pleased though, his cheeks turning redder and redder as Hawke goes on with her tale. He interrupts her story here and there, trying to save face whenever she goes overboard with one detail or another, just like her normal self would do. All she does is laugh and wave her hand at him, continuing to tell the others embarrassing stories.

 

Sitting by her side, Anders leans closer to Isabela and whispers. “Is she really okay? Hawke, I mean.”

 

“She’s surviving,” Isabela takes a sip of her brew, making a face as she’s reminded of the low quality of the Hanged Man’s beverage. “I doubt today she’ll be her shiny self, but I’m sure she will feel better tomorrow.”

 

Anders nods, smiling. “You’ll make sure of that, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course,” she says, head turned to look at him in the eyes. “Who do you think I am?”

 

* * *

 

“Let me make you feel good tonight,” Isabela strokes Hawke’s shoulders, pushing her towards their bed.

 

“Hmm,” Hawke closes her eyes, lets herself be guided by her girlfriend. “What do you have in mind, love?”

 

“Oh, you’ll see,” her smile is broad, playful, and she turns to face Hawke, lowering both on the bed as they kiss.

 

She unrobes Hawke and motions for her to lie on her front, naked back exposed for Isabela to work her own brand of magic. Before she can start though, she gets out of the bed and grabs her oils, choosing the ones for what she needs.

 

Hawke gasps when she feels the cold, feather-like touch of fingers tracing random patterns from the small of her back to her shoulder blades. She smiles when the pressure gets higher, more present on her back, and she closes her eyes to enjoy the massage properly.

 

The oil on her skin feels smooth, pleasant, and when Isabela changes her random-like patterns to ones more recognizable, Hawke starts humming. Isabela touches her neck next, laughing when Hawke groans in mild discomfort.

 

“You’re so tense, beautiful,” she whispers, leaning closer to Hawke’s ear, and blows her breath before going back to her task.

 

“How would I not be, when the entire Kirkwall comes crying to me for help,” Hawke grumbles, changes her head from one side to another.

 

Twirling her knuckles in circular motions, Isabela continues on with her massage, kneading on Hawke’s back as she tries to remember old techniques she’s learned all those years ago. She changes the position of her fingers again, leaving only the thumbs out of the closed fist. With that she starts to apply pressure in a twisting, lifting motion.

 

“You’re so good at this,” Hawke says, the corner of her mouth lifted up.

 

“Thanks, love,” Isabela continues with the pressure, this time going slower. “I do try.”

 

With a fluid motion, Isabela goes from Hawke’s middle to her sides, near the hips, and puts most of her weight there as she goes on with the circular movements. The massage continues for a few more minutes, the only sound in the room being of their breathing – sometimes interrupted by Hawke’s soft hum.

 

As she finishes, Isabela presses a small kiss at the back of Hawke’s neck, causing the woman to giggle – and oh how Isabela takes that as a win. Hawke turns and faces Isabela, a small, sleepy smile on her face and a shine on her eyes that wasn’t there the entire day.

 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she starts, brings a hand to Isabela’s cheeks and rubs a thumb back and forth. “I know I wasn’t at my best today and I appreciate this.”

 

“It’s fine if you’re not okay, I know you have reasons not to be – and even if you didn’t, it’d still be fine,” Isabela takes her hand and takes it to her lips, kissing her open palm slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “No one can be happy all the time; some days are harder than others.”

 

Hawke stays silent, contemplating her girlfriend’s words. Then she smiles, full and bright, bringing Isabela closer to her on a tight embrace. Isabela sighs, content, and rests her head on the crook of Hawke’s neck, leaving light kisses there. They sleep like that, arms around each other, noses bumping and foreheads touching, their breaths entangled.

 

It’s the best sleep both had for months.

**Author's Note:**

> english is not my 1st language so if there are any mistakes pls tell me!


End file.
